Pinned toot

I'm not really sure how to promote myself. If you've enjoyed my work, and have ever felt the urge to throw some coin at me, I now have a Patreon.

I reveal the filename of the individual story and sometimes have additional notes/thoughts about them too. It's all completely free there, if you wish to check it out. I haven't thought of anything to actually place behind a subscription.

Here's the link, thanks for your time and interest!
patreon.com/Teryl

The crow with the cloudy eye tapped at the beautiful stained-glass of the tower window.

The sky was a brilliant red; the sun would set soon. It tapped again.

A door opened, footsteps hurried, a latch lifted...

The prince fell backwards as a man with a cloudy eye collapsed upon him.

One long kiss later, the man murmured, "There's still a little sunset left if you want to watch it."

"There'll be other sunsets; there's only one you."

If you buy Ladykiller in the summer sale, I promise I’ll take every dollar it makes and frivolously spend it on making a beach DLC episode for Get in the Car, Loser! so really it’s for a good cause

The witches eyed the newest member of their coven.

"Galadriel, was it?"

"Yes," she responded, in a nervous, husky voice.

"Welcome, sister Galadriel!" chirped Tammy and her familiar in unison.

"Wouldn't brother Legolas be more appropriate?" spat Dyannea.

"Right. You aren't welcome here," nodded the lead witch.

Dyannea smirked.

"Begone, Dyannea," the leader continued, "A true sister would never exclude another from this coven."

The reason why many people are taught to assume that everyone in the past was racist was because we aren't taught any older antiracist writers, which is an interesting thing to think about, that that's the way we're taught to think about the past. Really makes you wonder

💖LIVE💖

Playing Odin Sphere Leifthrasir! Finishing up Velvet’s story today.

Http://twitch.tv/lunarjade

Once a year the Library mourned.

Windows darkened, book covers became dusty and muted. Even footsteps sounded fainter than usual.

"Why," asked a junior librarian, who'd only been warned the day before, in the softest whisper.

"The library remembers every author who has passed," the head librarian whispered back.

"But authors die every day, why is it not perpetually in mourning?"

"Because it wants people to keep reading and discovering."

The ancient tree was hollow.

That wasn't entirely true.

While it no longer contained sap nor a dense core, a natural compost had formed, giving nutrition to seedlings. Soft moss climbed upwards and outwards. Glowing fungus crowded the darkest, dampest spots, and generations of squirrels called this old tree a winter haven.

It once even hid a royal babe and a squad of fairy guardians.

Despite all appearances, the tree was far from empty.

I also have a couple of these A4 size fine art prints of my cow painting for £12 each (GBP)

I'd like to raise some money so I can help out a friend of mine - I have these originals for sale, prices plus postage :) The ruler for scale is in centimetres. Pitcher Plant, marker/pencil, £30. Green snake, marker/pencil, £40. Succulent, marker/pencil, £25. Pig, ink & watercolour, £45.

Boosts appreciated, Thank you <3

Mavis Goldtree was a cat with the squishiest cheeks you ever did see. You could lose most of your finger, pushed into all that fluff, and she'd purr a deep, powerful, room-filling purr from the attention, blinking slowly at you.

Who would name their cat Mavis, you might ask. Well, Kitty Goldtree, whose name really was Kitty: it wasn't short for Kathrine.

Mavis also had a brother named Thaddeus, with ears practically the size of saucers.

The crows strutted proudly before their maiden.

They'd worked hard to collect coins, baubles and, in a daring team effort, an expensive pair of sunglasses.

The maiden inspected each gift critically, grouping the coins based on value or foreignness.
She did the same with the baubles.

The sunglasses she wiped clean and placed over her eyes.

"Is it me?"

The crows cawed admiringly.

"Damn straight."

She granted their reward; popcorn.

2/2

"For a few years, then our family fell on hard times. Couldn't afford lessons after that."
"...But you were super good by then..?"
"HECK no, I still had a lot to learn!"
"So how?"
"Illegal underground cage-fighting."
"Pardon?"
"I knew ENOUGH to win MOST matches. Retired champion once I raised enough cash to pull us out of debt and afford my middle bro's top surgery."
"So you're the manliest one in your family is what you're saying."
"No..? Just the most inclined towards physical violence."

1/2

"How did you learn to fight like that?!"
"Well, I have six older brothers..."
"Oh, learned to fight from all that rough n' tumble?"
"What? No, they're the gentlest people in the WORLD. We're from a small town and two of them are gay so SOMEONE had to defend them."
"So you learned to fight just from... getting into scraps?"
"Well, our neighbor, Mrs. Rockroth was a multi-discipline black-belt instructor..."
"Taught you everything you know?"

2/2

The vendor eyed the figure. Hunched over, puffy eyed, sleeves full of used and unused tissues.

"Can't offer you anything, but I'll take it off your chest for free."

"Deal."

A puff of light, a delicate bottle and one relieved sigh later, the vendor waved as the client departed.

Secretly, the price was a smile, and that was usually received immediately after the transaction was complete.

But the vendor knew better than to ASK for a smile.

And now, there was a shifty bugger to curse...

1/2

"I buy and sell," advertised the vendor, in case potential clients missed the bright and garish signs hanging over the stall, "Anything, for a fair price!"

"What about... people?" asked a shifty passer-by, trying to sound like they were joking.

The vendor glowered, "You're not worth a penny one way or another, be off with you."

Another figure approached as the passer-by scuttled away in a hurry.

"How much for a broken heart?"

Anyone else I know getting hit by that Anti-Marriage spammer/bot?

The woods were eerily quiet.

Wind rustled the leaves.
There was no buzz of insects nor a bark, chirp or growl of ANY creatures.
Somewhere water trickled.

Despite the trees, it felt so empty.

"Keep walking," urged the guide in a stern whisper.

Despite the emptiness, sharp eyes followed them.

The Dryad's Forest - so named for she had never stopped growing - had the most curative herbs & cleanest air; but the hungriest roots...

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